


See Me In Nothingness

by Gale-Of-Stories (Home_Sweet_Homebrew)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-11 08:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18427133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Home_Sweet_Homebrew/pseuds/Gale-Of-Stories
Summary: A collection of headcanons of the four boys having a blind!S/O.





	1. Dante

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like this as much as my other fic! <3
> 
> ( And if you did please please please feel free to send in a request! A girl is desperate 😂 – https://gale-of-stories.tumblr.com )

Honestly? He doesn't know what to think at first. His line of work isn't very forgiving on the best of days, so an s/o whose eyesight is gone is... it's not that it sits wrong with him, but it stresses the poor man out, you're just so small and so gentle and sweet! What if you get attacked by a demon? What if you stub your toe?

 

Once his concerns are assuaged good old playful Dante comes out in full force, including but not limited to: putting his hands over your eyes and asking you to guess who it is, jumping up and down and asking if you can see him through the vibrations- he's an ass, but you knew that already.

 

On the note of questions, he _does_ have legitimate questions, some of them aren't the most politely worded, but be patient- he really truly is trying. He'll ask about the age old myth of feeling someone's face to see them, and be disappointed when you gently let him down.

 

_(He still uses that as an excuse to put your hands on his face._

_“Here, baby. Don't wanna forget these rugged good looks.”_

_“Dante that's not-”_

_“Shhh...just accept it.”)_

 

Another is about heightened senses and while- _No Dante, I'm not Daredevil._ \- it's not to the _extent_ he believes, you do inform him you take in your other senses more intensely than average, and when you arrive at Devil May Cry a week later, you keenly note how much cleaner the place smells- _and sounds, if the lack of crumpling papers under your feet is anything to go by._

 

As a matter of fact, Devil May Cry is so clean it baffles the others, furniture kept in place, shit is kept off the floors, everything mopped and wiped down, tidier than it's ever been, just shy of spotless. Upon being pressed by Trish and Lady, Dante mentions as casually as he can that it's best that things stay in one place ~~_and clean_~~ until you learn the layout of his business.

 

Dante isn't afraid to admit it, he wants you there all the time, he doesn't like being without you, whether it's to tease you or love on you or just simply to bask in your existence in his life. You're his special lady.

 

One of his favorite things to do his hand you things and ask you what it is as if you can't immediately parse it out, remind him with “I'm blind, Dante, not stupid.”

 

Either way he likes to try and throw you off guard, _and_ it's a great excuse for him to give you gifts without admitting that's what he's doing.

 

He loves to kiss your eyelids, you don't know why but he does, it becomes a bit of a ritual between the two of you, one on the lips, one on the cheek, one on each eyelid. It's also how he wakes you up those few days he rises early naturally. Rubbing a calloused thumb gently across your cheekbone as he peppers kisses against your eyes, your nose, your forehead.

 

Dante has some burning insecurities that he tries to hide with his humor, joking about his issues rather than just talking to you and seeking comfort, as is totally within his rights to do, jokes about how he's stupid or how his family is fucked or how he never manages to save his brother, one of his biggest insecurities was how you'd react to his devil trigger, the raw symbol of his inhumanity- that insecurity was reborn a thousand fold when he returned from the Qliphoth.

 

“Babe, we _really_ don't have to do this, you'll never even be around for this kinda shit.”

“Maybe, maybe not...but it doesn't matter, can't have me forgetting those rugged good looks, remember?”

 

God he's scared, so _so_ scared that this will be it, that he's finally gotten to the breaking point and you'll leave and he'll be alone again, you're so good to him, _too_ good to him, so patient with all his- his _bullshit_ you can't _possibly_ tolerate this too...right?

 

You lift your hands up beside your head and stretch them outright, not sure what to expect or where your hands will even land, you meet an unusual combination of soft fleshiness like skin and something rough like leather but much harder.

 

Slowly your hands slide up and you realize you haven't even reached his chest, and as you do the expanse of his body broadens _exponentially_ compared to what could only have been his waist. Fingers dance along jagged edges of a strange material but you're simply too short to reach his face and shoulders.

 

“Dante... _Dante_ …lift me sweetheart, I can't reach.”

 

A inhuman grumble shakes you where you stand, and a single large arm comes to raise you up until your hands meet a face not anything like your lovers, and instead of brushing your fingers across soft lips you find jagged teeth the length of your fingers.

 

“I knew it... you're gonna need a bigger toothbrush.”

 

He makes a sound not unlike a puppies curious whine and you giggle, pressing lips to fangs.

 

Months pass and Dante finds you have a harder time handling his brothers insufferable arrogance than the fact that they turn into demons on occasion- and decides that maybe, _just maybe_ , you'll be batshit crazy enough to love him forever.

 

“Hey hot stuff, guess what this is.” The object in your hand is soft and velvety, and when you rub your fingers across it you find a seam that follows most of the objects parameter, and in your fumbling it around you manage to open it away from you, fingers probing inside to come into contact with the stone of a delicate ring.

 

“Awe, come on doll, I was supposed to be proposing to you, not the other way around.”


	2. Nero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I'm late posting this!!! This one was a lot harder than Dante's and to (hopefully) make up for the drop in quality I played around with the format a bit.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!! <3

H e l p  h i m.

This poor boy is the definition of panicked and unsure how to proceed. He may have the total punk aesthetic but he's a softie, absolute _sweetheart_ for the people he loves.

And that means freaking the fuck out and getting really embarrassed every time he thinks he's offended you, wanting so terribly to not hurt your feelings. Talk to him please, make sure he understands he won't wound you that easily. The boy _will_ make himself cry otherwise.

Dante may try to make fun of him for that, in which case Nero will snap back that, “I care enough about the people I love to cry for them, what does it say about you that you don't, old man?”

There's no _real_ heat to that statement, but it shuts him up anyway.

If you met him before DMC4 you'll notice that he keenly keeps you to the left of him at all times, touches you with his left hand, makes excuses to always take the right side, etc etc. He says he's left handed but you know it's more than that.

You’ll have to be slow to coax him but eventually he'll let you touch his Devil Bringer, nervous about your reaction to it. He expects some of your questions, how long has he had it, where did it come from- but he doesn't expect you to ask him to describe it. Forgetting your lack of sight in his insecurity.

There's a small tidbit you get a little, eh, _stuck_ on.

“It _glows?”_

“U-uh yeah it...yeah.”

“Oh my God you have a five prong glow stick.”

_“What.”_

It's your permanent nickname for his arm, the big glow stick. He gives you shit for it but he's actually relieved you're so comfortable with it.

You become a source of solace for him, someone with an understanding of how it feels to struggle with a sudden and permanent affliction of the body.

That becomes especially true after it's _torn off,_ you have endless patience with his sorrow, and his anger.

You fear for him desperately when he leaves to go after the demon that tore off his arm, less so that he'll really get hurt, and more so that you know his anger and determination is his defense mechanism covering for the pain, the shame.

You seek out Kyrie, his sister of sorts and the only other person in the entire world he trusts as much as you, even Dante's reckless ass isn't given that kind of authority.

You both lean on each other the following months, both relating to that fear of the Nero who left not being the one who came back.

_If_ he came back.

You help with the kids, and glean some cooking skills- _you can't wait to see the look on Nero's face when you use the kitchen knives-_ off of her, while she basks in your calm patience, a balm to her mind.

Late into 'the game’ when your patience is wearing thin and your worry is beginning to gnaw at your resolve, you can hear Kyrie pick up a call, you know it's him.

Some selfish little worm in your heart wants to be hurt that he called Kyrie and not you, but the call only lasts a fraction of time and the responses Kyrie gives assuages you, if not making your heart ache, you can _tell_ this is something older than your time in his life, a childhood being dredged up.

But finally you can't help yourself, you call him the day after, aching to hear his voice, yearning for him to tell you it's okay, he's okay.

“Devil May Cry- _**fuck-!"**_

_“You said it.”_

You snort audibly into the receiver and rest your hip against the desk, commotion from the phone cut through by the sound of the kitchen door opening and someone, probably Kyrie enters.

“Hey teddy bear.”

A few footsteps and you can smell her delicate floral perfume, yep- definitely Kyrie.

“Hey ___.”

“Sorry if I called you at a bad time…I just wanted to check in.” You bite your lip and wrinkle your nose at now-identified Kyrie, who laughs and sidles up closer, leaning over the table to listen in on the conversation.

“Uh, yeah, I'm comin’ home.” You smile at the softness in his voice, always so gentle even when clearly annoyed. “Oh! Yeah. Don't wanna spoil it but I've got a surprise for you.”

“Oh yeah, he's got a **HUGE** surprise.”

_**“Will you shut up!?”** _

You and Kyrie both pop your mouths open, peeling with laughter at both Nico's remark in the background and his outburst in response.

_“No no no no!_ Not you ___, _Nico,_ and her _big mouth._ We're just—”

There's an audible squeal in the background and you sigh loudly, Nico is likely a greater danger to Nero than the demons he faces.

_ “What the hell’s your problem!? Where'd you learn to **drive!?”** _

There's a moment of silence and then; “Hey uh... sorry, I gotta call ya later. It's time to get back to work.”

With that the line dies and you laugh again. A feeling of warmth and sunshine gently settling in your belly after hearing his voice.

_He's okay._

It's a week longer before you hear the gentle creek of your shared bedroom door opening and closing- a moments rustling and then the heavy settle of a body next you, one that you turn to slowly.

“Nero..?”

“Hey sweetheart. Good to see you again.”

You feel the bed dip more as the hard smooth plains of his body rest all the way along yours, just enough to feel the weight of him, not enough to crush.

Gently hands slide along your torso- fingers dancing, soft palms come up to cup both of your cheeks, and even softer lips press slowly, languidly against yours.

_Wait._

“Nero...your hands..?”

_“Surprise.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to @GirlWithTheCinderblockGarden for catching a not so small writing error in this chapter!
> 
> Note to self, don't write while in a hospital pumped full of meds, blind people will suddenly see again haha!


	3. Vergil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA this one took so long I'm sorry!!! ^.^;; I tried to make this one longer than the others to make up for it!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! <3

He's not so unlike his brother in this case, he has heavy reservations about dating a blind individual, on the surface he's a total dickhead about it, some half baked story about dating the weakest of the already weak, truth is he's just terrified.

You're honestly going to have a hard time at first, just being honest. He's not gonna want to admit anything he really feels, and he's going to be just as cold with you as he is his own brother. Bastard doesn’t know any other way to express himself.

After a particularly crass comment toward you about struggling to navigate around him Dante is the one to get involved, with the very audible _thunk!_ of the younger twin smacking him hard upside the head. 

_“Stop being a fucking douchebag, Vergil. Shit like that stopped working in middle school.”_

Vergil is _very_ confused by that sentiment, until it hits- much to Dante’s amusement.

He doesn’t like that he likes you, no siree not at all. And he’s too proud to admit that he’s being an ass, so don’t be surprised that his behavior toward you just- _changes._

It’s subtle, or at least as subtle as he can be, the scratch of him moving furniture out of the way, huffing if you thank him, as if it annoyed him.

_(Did it annoy him that he had to do it, or that you felt the need to thank him for it?)_

Or the way he'll describe things by smell, taste or touch rather than sight the way others would.

Fair warning, you’re gonna have to ask him out- he’ll spend the rest of his awkward life pining over you, like I can’t stress enough how _bad_ he is at all this shit, okay?

So, corner him. Literally just like, don’t give him the opportunity to _~~flee~~_ walk away, sit him down if you can and just be honest that you like him, tell him to think on it and leave with nothing more than a gentle squeeze of his forearms and a small smile. You’ll have him breathless and tracing where your fingertips rested all day.

That's _one_ baffling trait you learn about the guy, he's actually pretty tactile for someone who seems so uptight.

He’ll show up like, all of two days later with a selection of small fragrant flowers and a very curt.

“I’d like to see you this weekend. If you aren’t having _regrets_ about our prior conversation.”

“Okay. Sounds good, any ideas where you’re taking me?”

“...Hmm.”

He didn’t think this far ahead.

He decides on impulse to take you to a library, some age old reflex in his gut, that young bookworm stretching out to greet him- wanting to show you that he isn’t all cold, there’s more to him than the sting of a blade.

“She can’t read Vergil.”

“That’s not-”

“I’ll read to her then.”

All objections about not being able to read go out the window with a hot flush at the _intimacy_ of that suggestion.

And that’s how you’ll end up walking side by side with Vergil in a local bookstore, wrapped delicately in the smell of old leather journals and his aftershave. Conversation is lacking but made up for by the almost boyish shyness in which he repetitively drags his now gloveless knuckles against your own. Picking out uniquely bound books for you to feel.

He’s in the middle of reading out a verse from fringe writers’ prized novella when you finally just pull him down, the first time is just a surprise peck on the lips, but the second time, _oh_ the second kiss is soft enough you can make out the chap of his lips. 

Things in your relationship spiral quickly after that, he’s still a big of an ass but you kinda except that’s just Vergil in general. Lovable dickhead.

Once again, all about the touches, very little conversation, when you ask him about his prized blade Yamato he decides to show you it himself, unsheathing the weapon and delicately dragging your fingers along the cool metal, around the intricate designs of it’s hilt.

_(That elicits more than a handful of innuendos from the younger Sparda twin. A fight broke out but it’s fine that’s just a Saturday afternoon for them.)_

He also begins to dress according to your tactile comfort, satiny and silky gossamer button ups and inoffensive textures on his jacket, carrying around ear plugs to block out excessive noise, anything to lessen overstimulation.

_**But!**_ To draw all the way back to him being terrified; this man is borderline _obsessive_ about your safety, Vergil is still a man very much ruled by trauma, and knowing you're so... _vulnerable_ is horrifying. You might have to talk to him, because he _will_ begin to suffocate you.

And don't worry, it's not that he won't or doesn't understand, of course he does- he himself likes a little bit of breathing space. It's just getting him to retain that information that's difficult, he'll relent for a few days and slowly creep back into mildly obsessive territory again.

Ironically, the one thing you'd expect to confirm his paranoia is actually what gets him to relent, a small accident while he isn't around to protect you, nothing huge- he'd be too busy freaking his absolute shit to care about learning anything off of it- that finally forces him to accept you're gonna get scuffed up in life, but you'll be fine. You heal just like any other living being, frail or not.

After this is when the relationship really finally smooths out, he's still a touch over the top but you chalk that up to Sparda genetics rather than any personal issue. And you _(if not literally everybody else)_ notice how much more calm Vergil is, you soothe him, a balm to his soul, someone who doesn't feel the need to “accommodate” him by being quieter or louder, you're just you, and there.

It's nice. Warm.

 

 


End file.
